


A Study in Scarlet

by Kizzywiggle



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Abuse of hotel facilities, Cross!John, M/M, Public Nudity, Sherlock is a Brat, Swimming Pools
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-30
Updated: 2017-06-30
Packaged: 2018-11-21 15:07:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,237
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11359947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kizzywiggle/pseuds/Kizzywiggle
Summary: Absolutely ages ago, a Freund on Twitter asked me to write a Johnlock fic around a gif of Martin Watson, wearing a truly lary Hawaiian shirt while floating in a pool chair.I started but never finished.Until now.Sherlock is being a brat, and John has to step in.Very short, very silly.





	A Study in Scarlet

**Author's Note:**

> I apologise to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle for the misappropriation of his title.

The air was hot and humid, stroking John's exposed forearms and calves with warm, moist fingers. His pale pink Hawaiian shirt and stone-coloured shorts clung damply to his broad chest and muscled thighs, and his back and arms - supported on the water by the hot plastic of the hotel’s inflatable pool chair - were producing enough sweat to keep the hotel pool topped up indefinitely.

With a contented sigh John reached for the lurid cocktail which was snugged into the purpose-made holder on his lilo, sucking the ice-cold, sweetly alcoholic concoction down in greedy gulps. He was four days into his honeymoon; four long, hot sunny days, and three longer, hotter, acrobatic, imaginative, sweaty, delicious nights. John smirked into his cocktail, recalling an attempt at a particularly, uh, _ambitious_ position which had led to a horrendous cramp in the back of his knee and a panicked, giggly collapse just before the moment of _extremis_. He'd lain there in a tangle of limbs, embarrassed, horny and slightly pained, the whole while laughing like a loon because he was married, he was in love, and (for the first time in a long, _long_ time) he was truly happy...and the less-acrobatic lovemaking which had followed his fall from grace had been almost spiritual in its simple beauty.

_Damn!_

John pushed surreptitiously at his hardening cock with the heel of his hand, replacing the cocktail in its holder then adjusted his sunglasses briefly. Stiffy momentarily tamed, he sighed happily and returned to drifting dreamily across the surface of the large, child-free pool underneath a clear cerulean sky, trying hard not to think of what his clever, imaginative spouse might be thinking of for them later that night.

His pleasant ruminations were disturbed by a ripple of gasps from the people lounging around and in the pool. Cracking open one eye and peering through his sunnies, John had a brief, blurred impression of a tall, slim man walking beside the pool. He opened both eyes to double check; yes, a tall, slender, delicious man with pale skin, clear eyes and a mop of disheveled dark hair. John purred happily. _Just my type!_ he thought to himself, noting in passing that the man was stark naked, all his well-proportioned glory on display. It wasn't until said man knifed cleanly off the edge of the pool that realisation doused John like ice water, and he ripped off his sunglasses to do a double-take, just as Sherlock surfaced and began lazily crawling across the pool toward John, who tried sitting up (forgetting he was on a lilo) and promptly tipped himself and his cocktail into the pool.

Coming up for air, cherries, orange slices and sparkly swizzle sticks all slowly sinking around him, John spat out a mouthful of water and glared at his husband, bobbing next to him, from out of chlorine-reddened eyes.

“What, _exactly,_ do you think you are doing, Sherlock?” John hissed, arms and legs slowly moving to keep himself upright in the water. Pool water beaded and ran down the lenses of his sunglasses like tears, and his soft palate stung from unexpectedly ingesting the pool chemicals.

“Oh, really, John? Has free, unlimited alcohol and several nights of over-ambitious fornication addled your brain so thoroughly?” Sherlock drawled. “I would have thought that - even in an advanced state of intoxication - you'd have understood that I am taking a swim. _Honestly…_ ” he added in a despairing tone, and began doing a clean front-crawl towards the other end of the pool.

Somewhat hampered by his clothing, John made his less-elegant way after Sherlock. Catching up with him at the edge of the pool, John hooked his elbow onto the tile and used his other hand to grasp Sherlock’s upper arm, leaning in to whisper vehemently at his spouse, “The reason I'm asking, you insufferable _git_ is because _this. Isn't. A. Nude. Swimming. Pool!_ ” He spat the word out like bullets, but sadly none hit their target. Sherlock merely arched an eyebrow, wriggled his arm free of John’s grasp and back stroked away with barely a ripple or a splash to mark his passing. John released a sound somewhat reminiscent of a tea-kettle exploding and heaved himself wetly from the pool to stalk around the rim and meet his husband. En route, he snatched a random towel from an unoccupied lounger. Upon reaching the end of the pool he held out the towel, lowered his voice to its most authoritarian timbre and barked “Out!”

With a pout, Sherlock surfaced and strode, unashamed, from the pool, climbing the wide, shallow steps with insouciant grace and a superior smirk. 

“Why, John… you're so surprisingly… _prudish_ , sometimes.” Slicking his hair back, trickles of pool water sliding sensuously down the pearl-pale length of him, Sherlock permitted John to wrap him in the towel. He followed almost meekly as John dragged him away from the pool and towards the large glass doors which led back inside. “I mean, everybody there has seen a naked male _homo sapiens_ before. I'm nothing special. Physically, at least,” he added thoughtfully.

“You're such a bloody prat, sometimes,” muttered John, still stomping wetly across the tiles. Nothing more was said as they crossed the large room where the lunch buffet was being laid out, waited for the lift and boarded it once the doors dinged open. 

As the doors slid shut and the carriage ascended, John tugged Sherlock close by the towel which slid open, being merely tucked rather than knotted. It slid damply to the ground. John reached up to cup Sherlock's jaw, and looked into his beautiful eyes. “You bring out the caveman in me, Love,” he said quietly. “I know they've all seen a naked bloke before - but you're _my_ naked bloke. I don't wanna share you just yet.” He stretched up and pressed a kiss on Sherlock's slack mouth. 

Sherlock grunted and leaned into the kiss for a long moment before pulling back. “Sometimes I truly believe that your sheer, bullheaded illogicality is the biggest reason I love you,” he said quietly. “But then I have to acknowledge that for once there's no path of reason, no formula for me to follow. I love you, much as I hate to say it, just because.” He smiled, that rare, bright smile which transformed his entire face, making him look young and free. John smiled back. He stooped to pick the towel up and fasten it about Sherlock's hips once more, tucking it in tightly.

“Wait’ll we get back to our room,” he grinned. “I'll remind you of several very good reasons why you love me!” As Sherlock opened his mouth to protest, the lift slid to a stop, and John held up a forestalling hand. “No. No more talking from you, thank you. You've been very bratty indeed this morning, and I need to remind you of certain rules, I think.” He strode from the lift, uncaring or not realising that he was still sopping wet and was leaving a soggy trail of footprints behind him.

Sherlock grinned smugly. That had worked out even better than he had postulated. Poor John, not even knowing he'd been thoroughly played. With a tiny little swagger and an entirely spurious look of contrition, Sherlock followed his husband to their suite.

If he worked this right, before long his backside would be a study in scarlet.

“How delicious,” he murmured, as the door closed behind them.


End file.
